


Come Home to My Heart

by elenei



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Childbirth, F/M, Fix-It, Pregnancy, Reunion, and the happy ending everyone deserved, completely self indulgent, yes another one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-25 00:23:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20367571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenei/pseuds/elenei
Summary: After the dust settles Arya Stark journeys north with her brother Jon Snow. She intends to make a new life among the free folk but a discovery will lead Arya to finding where she truly belongs.





	Come Home to My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I know there’s a million of these fics already but I felt compelled to write my own version. It’s obviously inspired by the events that took place on the show but I’m devoted to Arya and Gendry’s book characterization. 
> 
> Also this fic did end up having a lot more sibling bonding between Arya and Jon than I anticipated. But I'm not upset about that. They were done dirty by the show too.

Arya had never gone beyond the wall. Or even as far as the wall. She had often dreamed of it, though. As a girl she had wanted nothing more than to go further north than even Winterfell to see Jon again. To see him smile at her and muss up her hair and finish her sentences. She knew he would always want her even if the rest did not.

It seemed the only choice left to her. Arya had no desire to stay in Winterfell with _her grace_. And Bran wasn’t going to be a brother to her. He didn’t remember how. King’s Landing would never be a home. Arya still had nightmares of the screaming as fire rained down on the city with her in it.

There was Gendry. It hurt to think of him. Arya had wanted him to be her family. She had wanted to be with him the night the world was supposed to end too. But he was a lord now. Everyone would expect him to marry a lady with soft hands and a gentle heart. Arya didn’t think she could give him what he needed. 

So when the time came she followed Jon north.

*

It wasn’t as cold as she expected. Jon told her it was warmer than it ever had been before. The snow was melting and greenery peaked out from under what remained. It was a land changing now that the wall was destroyed and the Night’s King defeated.

And the free folk were thriving since they no longer needed to flee the undead. They began to build new homes and Arya was determined to make hers among them. She found it easy to adapt to life beyond the wall. It was certainly less strange than Braavos had been to her at first. Arya was of the north and had lived in the wilds. She had been many people and assumed many roles in her short time. She could be a wildling if she wanted.

Though, Arya could not say for certain what she wanted. She didn’t think she had ever known. Her siblings always seemed to know their place. Her brothers all found lordship and her sister was born a lady. Arya always seemed to be the odd one out.

But she quickly found friends no matter what. The free folk accepted Arya despite her being a southerner, to them. They taught her how to hunt and make her own clothes and which plants could be used as medicine or food. She eagerly learned their ways.

That was what she had been doing the day she discovered she was pregnant.

*

Jon had left to range with the others and Arya decided to spend time with the wildling women. Jon often left for days at a time. He was no longer a boy with dreams of the Watch. He was a man haunted by death but she loved him no less.

Arya enjoyed the company of the wildling women as she had the girls and women at the Happy Port too. They were much the same in many ways. Not beautiful but kind and capable and resilient. The women of the far north didn’t look down their noses at Arya like the ones she had grown up with.

They were foraging in the early morning when a wave of nausea hit Arya. She dropped her basket and got sick while her hand grasped at the rough bark of a tree. She felt gentle but strong hands pull back her hair. When the sickness passed Arya straightened and wiped her mouth against her sleeve.

“Are you alright?” a woman who was the age her mother would have been had the Freys not murdered her at the Twins. Arya shivered. This woman was considered a great healer among the Free Folk and went by the name Valla. She had dark brown hair streaked with white. From what Arya had seen her heart was as kind as the eyes that were observing intensely.

“Fine,” Arya answered shortly. The woman didn’t seem convinced. She glanced at the other women who were nearby, close enough to hear, before subtlety stepping away from them. Arya couldn’t help but follow. It seemed rude not too. This woman had been nothing but kind and patient while showing Arya the ways of her people.

“Have you been sick often?” Valla asked quietly.

Arya shrugged.

“A few times.” It was more than that. Arya was sick at least once most days.

“How do you feel now?”

“Tired.” Which made no sense to Arya. She was sleeping as much as she ever did.

“Your breasts?”

Arya screwed her face up. She didn’t know what that had to do with anything. Her breasts had been tender but she wasn’t going to admit that. Arya didn’t answer and crossed her arms across her chest, defensively. But it seemed that was answer enough for the old woman. She pressed on.

“When did you last bleed?” Arya felt a creeping sense of foreboding. There was only reason you asked a woman that question. She was an idiot for not considering it herself. She hadn’t wanted to see it, Arya realized. All the signs had been there. It hadn’t just been feeling ill and tired and achy. Her pants no longer fit as they once had either. Arya wanted to kick herself.

She thought of her moonblood but she couldn’t remember when it had last visited her. Had it been in King’s Landing while fire and blood poured over the city? In Winterfell before the battle with the dead? Those days had been so uncertain and chaotic. The next day was never a given during war. And Arya had never kept track of her woman’s blood very well to begin with. There had never been a need.

“I don’t know.”

“You’ve been with a man? Or men?” There was no judgement in her voice.

Arya thought of Gendry; his shaggy black hair and icy blue eyes and his rough hands and the way his lips felt on hers.

“A man.”

The wise woman nodded knowingly.

“It seems you are with child, my girl.”

When Arya remained frozen and speechless Valla carried on, cautiously.

“I might be able to give you a potion…to end it,” she told Arya quietly. Her hand touched Arya’s arm. “If that’s what you want. But I would have to examine you further.”

Arya did not know what she wanted. She had not intended to make a baby with Gendry when they laid together. But they had. Whether she willed it or not there was life taking root inside her. Arya had taken many lives. She had never created one.

Arya returned to her tent in a daze. She sat down on the hard floor with her arms wrapped around her middle. There was a bump there. It was small but undeniable now that Arya faced the truth. That’s how Jon found her many hours later as the sun was setting.

“Are you alright?” he asked kneeling down beside her. Arya shook her head.

“I’m going to have a baby,” she blurted.

Jon stared at her with his mouth gaping open. It was a long time before his wits returned to him. He became angrier than she had seen him for some time. Maybe ever. Jon had never shown much of a temper when they were children. His demeanor had always been as cool as father’s.

“Did one of them steal you?” he demanded showing more emotion than he had since before the events that had caused his exile. Arya shook her head. _As if they would have been able to take me_, she thought. Arya could out match any wildling man. She had slayed death after all.

“It happened before we came to the Wall. In King’s Landing.” Arya hesitated. Jon waited with visible distress. “Gendry,” she admitted after a quick consideration. There was no point in hiding it. Even if Jon felt the need to defend her tarnished honor he would not be able to. Gendry was safe; leagues away in the stormlands.

“Gendry…Baratheon?” Jon repeated. Arya scrunched her nose at the house name. He was just Gendry to her. As she had only ever wanted to be Arya to him. “Lord of Storm’s End?”

“Yes,” Arya responded. But she didn’t think of him like that. She certainly hadn’t while they laid together that last time even though he had been wearing leathers as fine as hers. It had been after the trial. Arya had gone to him in his chambers. To say goodbye. That had truly been all she intended. They didn’t say much. Gendry had just looked at her; his blue eyes pleading. It hadn’t take long before they were wrapped up in one another again. Arya had left before he woke. That had been nearly four moons ago. “We knew each other before. He traveled with me through the riverlands for a time. We were friends. And when we met again…we laid together.” Jon didn’t blush but she noticed the smallest flex in his fingers. Arya paused._ I might as well tell him it all_, she thought. “He asked me to marry him.”

Jon took this in quietly for a long moment.

“Well at least he’s not entirely without honor,” Jon offered. He cocked his head to the side. He looked more curious than anything. “You didn’t want to marry him?”

“I…” Her voice sounded strangely weak to her own ears. Arya swallowed hard. “He wanted me to be his lady.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Jon said.

“I can’t be a lady. You know that,” she said. “I don’t like dresses.” Arya’s fingers played with the frayed end of her tunic. “I don’t know how to sew or sing.” That melted his anger. He looked at her so sadly that Arya dropped her gaze to the floor. Jon put a finger under her chin to raise her face. She had to look into his grey eyes so like her own. And like father’s.

“I think you can be anything,” Jon told her, solemnly. “You care more than anyone I’ve ever known. For your family and your people. I remember Arya Underfoot loved nothing more than to be among them. Anyone would be fortunate to have you as their lady.”

On it’s own accord Arya’s hand went to her stomach. Jon noticed it and cupped the side of her face.

“Or as a mother,” he added.

*

Her belly grew.

It all seemed to go by too fast for Arya to truly acknowledge what was happening within her. She went about her business as if there wasn’t life growing inside her body. It was easy at first. She could move the same, act the same and be treated the same. The Free Folk did not look at her strangely as those below the wall would have. It was no uncommon thing for an unmarried young woman to have a baby. The men didn’t look at her funny nor did the women whisper. Instead they touched her stomach with smiles and warm wishes.

Then it wasn’t so easy to ignore. It started with a stirring within, gentle and soft like the touch of a butterfly’s wing, but it turned into kicks, hard and fast like an angry bull.

“You little beast,” she scolded playfully when he did that which became often towards the end. It made her smile even if it was a pain for it meant her babe was already strong and fierce. Her belly became so big that she couldn’t even see her toes. She hardly slept at night. When that happened Arya would roam the camp and look up at the starlit sky.

“What do you think?” she asked her swollen belly. “It’s not so bad here. You could run and fight and hunt.”

There was no answer from the unborn babe, of course, but Arya heard a voice all the same, familiar, stubborn and annoyed with her.

_He could run anywhere_, the voice pointed out. _There’s no shortage of space in the Stormlands._

She bristled at the imagined argument. She hated that he was right. He hated that he always had a way of pointing out the flaws in her plans as much as she valued it.

“I know that but nobody will call him a bastard here.” Arya didn’t think they would at least.

_He wouldn’t of even been a bastard if you hadn’t run yourself_, the voice hissed. He was angry with her. Maybe angrier than he had ever been with her.

Arya couldn’t even fault him for that.

*

It was a warm spring night when she gave birth.

“You go ahead and scream,” a woman, not much older than herself but with two babes already, called Ally told her. Her voice and touches were sympathetic. She knew this pain. But Arya shook her head fiercely.

“I won’t,” She growled.

She did, though.

It felt as if she was being torn apart. Arya had never in her life known such a pain. She thought of her mother who had gone through childbirth five times and prayed for her strength.

Arya considered again what would happen if she died. She had tried to broach the topic with Jon a few times throughout the months of her pregnancy but he had refused to hear it. His own mother died on her childbed and she knew how painful it was for him to imagine Arya meeting the same fate. But Arya knew should the worst happen Jon would care for her babe as his own.

All throughout her labor Arya thought of Gendry too and how far away he was from this scene. She didn’t know she felt about it. On the one side she didn’t want him to see her screaming and crying. On the other she missed him. She wished his hands were the ones holding hers and brushing the hair back from her damp forehead.

It went on for hours until finally she gave one last push.

“A boy,” Valla said, smiling, as she placed him onto Arya. He was red and squalling and wet from her womb. Arya gasped in shock. She had known he was in there and had certainly felt him leave but nothing could have prepared Arya for seeing him. His eyes were scrunched up in his red face but there was a fine layer of raven black hair on the top of his head. Arya reached out to just barely brush one finger across it.

The women showered her with kind words.

“You did well.”

“He’s a hearty one.”

“It’s almost over and then you can rest.”

“As strong as an ox he’ll be.”

They took him from her after that, only to clean and wrap him while Arya finished the afterbirth that nobody ever told her about, but she felt the loss keenly. There was still pushing to be done but Arya kept craning her neck to look at where the wildling women had him on the other side of the tent. He was crying softly and the sound tore at Arya’s heart. When they brought him back, wrapped tightly in a blanket, Arya eagerly held her arms out to receive him.

His head turns towards Arya’s chest, instinctively looking for milk. Arya opened the light tunic she wore and he quickly latched on. She looked down on him the entire time. The sight was more fascinating than anything she had ever seen before. His eyes were open now and they were bright blue.

_He’s beautiful_, she heard him say just like he had said to her that night he proposed a marriage between them.

And Arya cried.

She didn’t fully understand why but she cried harder than she had since she was a girl safe behind Winterfell’s walls. She couldn’t seem to stop the tears. None of the women seemed surprised by this. They murmured things Arya didn’t hear but she could sense their comforting intent as she sobbed.

When the worst of the tears passed they allowed Jon to see her. He had been forbidden from entering the birthing tent from the women and Arya hadn’t pressed the matter. Neither had Jon. She had known he was outside waiting the entire time. That had been enough.

Arya briefly wondered what Gendry was doing in Storm’s End. Was he breaking his fast already? Or lying beside his new wife?

Jon pulled back the tent’s flap and warm pink light from the dawn entered the tent. She had started her labor in the dark of night. But now it was a new day. Jon sat down by Arya’s side with a look of wonderment. Neither of them spoke for a long time.

“My little sister is a mother,” he said at last with a chuckle. His eyes looked wet despite the light humor in his voice. “I never thought I’d see this day.”

“Me either.” Arya smiled as Jon extended a hand to touch the baby’s much smaller hand.

“Might I hold my nephew?”

Arya paused only briefly before she leaned forward so her brother could take her son in his arms. Arya’s arms felt empty without him but it warmed her to see him cradled by Jon.

“What will you call him?” he asked.

Arya considered it.

“Wildlings don’t name their babes until they reach two,” she answered. It was a result of their harsh lives. Babies often died before they started to talk. Though, that might change with the snows melting.

“Are you a wildling now, little sister?”

“Perhaps.”

Jon almost smiled at that.

“I was thinking of naming him after father,” Arya said when they had both fallen quiet again. “But I wasn’t sure he’d approve. I wasn’t married…”

“Oh, I think he’d be honored,” Jon argued before she could say more. He placed the newborn back into his mother’s arms. “Married or not the baby is a part of you and…father too.”

Arya smiled as she thought of him.

_The lone wolf dies but the pack survives. _

“Eddard,” Arya murmured. Not a Stark or a Baratheon or even a Snow. Just Eddard.

*

In a few days time she felt healed enough to resume her duties. It felt good to get out of the tent and walk if nothing else. She went back to checking traps in the forest and helping plant seeds for future gardens. The only difference was she did it with Ned, tucked safely in a sling against her chest.

Arya never tired of staring at him. She would lie next to him on the cot they shared and touch his little nose and fingers. He would stare up at her with his blue eyes and a smile. Arya loved him more than she had ever loved anything. Her nightmares became less frequent and when they did disrupt her sleep it comforted her to have him by her side.

His first few moons passed in what seemed like no time at all. Little Ned had only just started rolling over when Jon broached the subject one night.

“Have you considered sending him a raven? I could arrange for that you know.”

Arya didn’t need to ask to whom he was referring. Reflexively, she looked down at Ned. She _had_ considered it. And often. But she would always brush the thought off as quickly as it came.

“What would I say?”

“That you two have a baby for a start.”

Arya shook her head.

_Never knew you to be so craven_. Arya wrinkled her nose at the mocking tone she heard. She wasn’t being craven. She _wasn’t_. Jon sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He seemed frustrated. Arya wasn’t used to him feeling that way with her.

“I think Gendry would want Ned-”

“He’s _mine_,” Arya nearly snarled at her brother. She reached out and picked her baby up off the furs where he lay.

_It was my seed_, the voice snapped at her possessiveness.

Jon was unperturbed by the outburst. He, traitorously, agreed with the voice in her head.

“He’s Gendry’s too.” Jon stared at her in a way that reminded her of their father. She hated that look for it made her feel like a child again. She was a woman grown; a slayer and a mother. She didn’t want to be lectured on what to do. Not even by Jon.

“He’s probably married by now,” Arya sniffled. She had told him any lady would be lucky to have him. It was true still but Arya felt foolish for such a remark. “With a trueborn babe on the way to be his heir. What use could he have for a bastard?”

_Or for me?_ Arya thought.

“Well speaking as a bastard I think you should let him make that decision. Not just for his sake but the babe’s. You don’t know what it’s like, Arya,” he said. There was no heat in voice but Arya felt a flush of shame then. He was right. She didn’t know what it was like to be a bastard. Even here in the far north.

“I can’t be a lady,” Arya whispered.

“Until a few moons ago you didn’t think you could be a mother,” Jon pointed out. “Now look at you.” Arya held Ned tighter. “Besides, you don’t have to be anything other than what you are. If Gendry says otherwise he’s not the man I though he was.”

Arya held Ned close and considered her brother’s words. Arya loved and trusted Jon more than almost anyone. She knew he would not lie to her or lead her astray.

“You love Ned, dont you?”

“With my whole heart.”

“And you love Gendry?”

Arya closed her eyes. She could clearly see him with his shaggy black hair and that stubborn look in his blue eyes. She had trusted him more than almost anyone. She admired his honesty and his strength. He was brave and smart even if she hadn’t always seen it. He was her truest friend.

Arya nodded.

“Then you owe both of them this. There will always be a place for you here. And at Winterfell and even King’s Landing should you need it. But I think you need to go to Storm’s End and see what awaits you there.”

“He might turn us away,” Arya argued, weakly. She did not think Gendry the Smith would do such a thing. But he was a lord now. Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storm’s End and Arya found it difficult to predict how they would be received. It was over a year since they last saw each other. A lot could change in that time. Besides, Arya had rejected his marriage proposal and then disappeared. He probably hated her after that.

“Arya listen to me,” Jon said. “I’ve found my place here among the free folk but I will never father a child.”

“But-”

“_Never_,” he repeated. His tone was so stern that Arya knew there was no use arguing. “But if I had…nothing on earth would have kept me from being a father to him or her.”

*

Jon brought her to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. He wanted to bring her all the way, punishment be damned, but Arya refused him. She couldn’t show up with her brother in tow. It shamed her just to think of it. She was Arya Stark of Winterfell, a daughter of the north. She had faced down murderers and death itself. She would not cower before a Storm Lord. No, this was something she had to do by herself.

“I’m accustomed to traveling alone,” she said with a shrug when he offered one last time to join them on their journey south.

“You’re not alone,” he reminded her with a nod towards her most precious bundle. They both smiled at Ned who was snug in a sling across her chest. He was blissfully unaware of the uncertainty that lay before them both. All he knew was his mother’s warm embrace. Arya held him tight. _Nothing bad will happen to him_, she swore, silently.

“I will come back to see you,” Arya promised aloud to her brother. Of that much she was certain.

She leaned into his hand as Jon brushed a fallen tear off her cheek.

“I look forward to it, little sister.”

They embraced until the captain himself said they must set sail. As Arya stepped out of his grasp Jon reached out to muss her hair up one last time. Then he gently touched the top of Ned’s head. He gave her one last look; sad and proud all at once.

Arya watched him from the ship’s deck until land was out of sight.

*

Compared to all her other travels the trip to the Stormlands was uneventful. She wasn’t taken prisoner or brought to a strange new land. She sailed as far as she could to Storms End before finding a ride in the back of a wagon for two days until she was promptly delivered to the castle Gendry now called home.

It was an impressive structure. Arya knew the stories of Durran and Elenei. She had the tales from Old Nan a lifetime ago. Not even the gods had been able to knock it down. Arya found herself comparing it to the other castles she had seen. It didn’t warm her heart and break it all at once like Winterfell but it doesn’t make her sick like the Red Keep or strike fear in her like Harrenhal. Only time would tell what Storm’s End meant to her she supposed.

“State your business,” the guard said as she walked toward the gate.

“I…” Arya hesitated. _Want to see your lord?_ Arya thought. _I have his son_. Arya glanced down at Ned. He might have his fathers look but they probably wouldn’t believe her. They might laugh in her face, turn her away, or worse. Besides, Arya wasn’t sure she was ready to see Gendry. She wanted to spend some time in his castle, listening. “I’m looking for work.”

They sent her to the kitchens.

Arya didn’t mind it at all. She had always loved to spend time in Winterfell’s kitchens as a child. She would be chased out after the cooks nearly tripped over her. She had visited Hot Pie in Harrenhal’s massive kitchens and worked beneath the earth in the House of Black and White’s too.

_A kitchen_, Arya found, _was a kitchen no matter where you went_. There were all l the same duties. And if Arya could do them blind she could surely do them with both her eyes too. Arya kneaded dough and filleted fish and chopped onions. These were all familiar acts and she enjoyed going through the motions. The women were kind to her as well. Arya shared a room with a few of them.

And they cooed over Ned.

Arya told them her name was Lya; after her aunt and Jon’s mother. Once her father had said they resembled each other. Both in appearance and spirit. But no one here, not even Gendry, would ever make the connection.

It wasn’t long before she saw him. It was only ever from a distance while he was stomping through the yard or riding out from the stables to visit his lands. He sat a little horse better, she noticed. But he never saw her. Arya made sure of that. She watched him, though. He looked as strong as ever. He trained hard in the yard and still visited the forge she knew. Many thought it odd that his lordship would mend armor and make swords. Arya didn’t.

*

After a week of keeping her distance Arya ducked into the back of the forge when she knew his lordship was at work. Arya kept herself in the shadows pressed against the smithy wall. She couldn’t see Gendry but she recognized the sounds he made.

Davos Seaworth was there too; telling Gendry of the happenings in King’s Landing. Arya listened intently, as much for her sake as Bran and Gendry’s, but it did not seem as though much going on in the Capital. Then Gendry informed Davos of his progress in Storm’s End. He was making great strides in his mathematics but still struggled with his letters. He sounded frustrated and it made Arya bite her lip. They discussed bannermen and taxes and an upcoming feast to be held in Storm’s End. Arya already knew plenty about that. It was still a moon’s turn away but the kitchen was hastily preparing as if was to happen that very night. The women had much to say about it too. Apparently everyone expected Lord Baratheon to select a lady wife. He could have his pick of any woman in the Stormlands and beyond. It was past time, everyone agreed. He had been lord for over a year.

“There’s also the matter of a wife,” Davos Seaworth began in suit. Arya’s teeth clamped down harder on her lip. There was a loud clang from the forge that Arya recognized as a hammer hitting steel. It quickly cut off the Onion Knight from saying another word. Arya held her breath waiting for his response.

“No,” Gendry answered instantly.

Davos sighed. Arya did not think it was the first time they had discussed this.

“You need to think of the future of House Baratheon. That means producing an heir.” Davos sounded patient as he recited the lines she was sure he had said many times already. At his words Arya instantly say little Ned in her mind.

“Why should I care?” Gendry snapped. Arya could hear the fury in his voice. “They never cared about me. They left me to rot on the street of steel while they drank and whored and did whatever else it is these highborns do.” There was another loud clang. “Robert Baratheon’s legacy means nothing to me. And I won’t marry some lady just to appease these fucking lords.” There was scorn in his every word.

Davos sighed again but he didn’t press the subject any further. The hammering continued as Arya snuck out of the forge.

*

“Lya you’ll have to bring his lordship his dinner.”

“What?” Arya asked, alarmed. Marta was in charge here and staring at her, expectantly, with a tray in her hands. Arya had only ever prepared food. She had never served it. 

“Jenny is sick as you know and I’m busy with this dough for tomorrow. Don’t worry he’s not a cruel man. He’s dining alone in his solar tonight. As he does most nights,” she added with a sigh. “Just go up to his chamber, knock, and leave the food on his table. He’ll most likely be studying his books and won’t even notice you.”

Arya took the tray with steady hands.

She had explored the castle quite a bit by night when Ned and the rest of the castle were fast asleep. Once she had even snuck into Gendry’s bedchamber for a quick peak. It was quite boring, though. He had a large featherbed and a desk full of the paperwork you’d expect of a lord. He didn’t have any secret plots in the works as far as Arya could tell.

As Arya raised her hand to knock on his bedchamber she took a deep breath. _Be Lya the servant girl_, she thought. Arya made herself smaller as a kitchen girl might. It would not do to carry herself as Arya did. She dropped her shoulders and looked at the floor. Then she knocked.

“Come in.”

Gendry was standing over his desk just as predicted. The candle was burning low and he seemed to be struggling to see the letters in front of him. Arya went to the table without another glance. She could feel Gendry behind her, mere feet away, but Arya focused on the task in front of her. As she was laying out the meal Arya realized now was the moment. They were in his chamber and alone. There was no point wasting anymore time. She had come all this way to see him after all.

She straightened her spine and took a deep breath.

“What are you reading?” she asked.

His back instantly tensed. His hands gripped the edge of the desk so hard his knuckled turned white. Arya watched as he took several deep breaths. Her stomach fluttered as she waited for a response.

“Arya.”

“Gendry.”

That seemed to awaken something in him. He turned on his heels to look at her with a face that was conflicted. Arya could see the relief and shock and happiness and anger all at once.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded. His face was screwed up in that way of his too. He was confused and Arya could not blame him for that. His former lover had shown up in his chamber dressed as a maid with no warning.

But Arya shrugged as if nothing is amiss.

“I…brought your supper,” she answered, lamely. She didn’t know what else to say. It seemed such a long and silly tale now that she was standing before him. Gendry stared in disbelief.

“That’s not an answer!” His voice increased in volume as his frustration grew. He took several agitated steps towards her. Arya held her ground as Gendry pushed his hair back so he could fully scowl at her.

“I came here to see you.” Arya didn’t know how to explain everything that had happened. Everything she was feeling. So much had occurred in Arya since they last saw one another.

Gendry nostrils flared a bit and he looked every bit the blacksmith boy she had known on the road all those years ago. His fancy leathers were nowhere to be seen. He was dressed in a simply tunic and trousers. His hair was clean, though. And he smelled nice. Arya imagined she smelled like the kitchen.

“Well you’ve seen me.”

Arya raised her eyes to his. She wasn’t going to hide from him any longer. She had done enough of that. His blue eyes were stormy as she had ever seen them but Arya had looked in far scarier faces than his.

“Do you want me to go?” Her voice was cool and even. If he said yes she would leave, before sunrise, return to the north and never trouble him again. Arya would never look back. But just like that the storm passed. He heaved a sigh and the anger seemed to fade away like clouds.

“No,” he answered softly. “I’m just surprised is all. You left in a hurry last time we saw each other.” He didn’t bother trying to hide the bitterness. “You could’ve at least sent a raven.” Arya felt ashamed but she couldn’t go back and change it.

“I’m sorry about that.” And she truly was. Arya hoped he could see it on her face and hear it in her voice. His manner seemed to soften at least. “I was…” Scared? Sad? Confused? Arya had never been good at putting her words to feelings. “Lost.”

“I know.” He sighed. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t of proposed like _that_.” Arya bit her lip. “You’re not a lady any more than I’m a lord.”

“But lordship becomes you.”

Gendry scoffed. He was staring at his boots but Arya could see that his cheeks were pink.

“I’m terrible at it.”

“No you’re not.” Arya had listened enough to know the smallfolk were fond of their lord even if he was a bit aloof. He cared more than most. He was a quick study and a dedicated worker. They were proud to have one of their own be the lord of Storm’s End.

“I’m learning the numbers and the letters but I’ll never be one of them.” He looked down at the floor. Arya also knew that Gendry’s bannermen weren’t impressed with him. He lacked courtesy and they resented a blacksmith being their superior. He might win some over with time but some would never accept him.

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Arya told him.

Gendry looked at her strangely then. They were both quiet for a long moment. Arya thought of Ned tucked away in his cradle next to the warm kitchens. She needed to tell Gendry. Arya opened her mouth to speak but Gendry beat her to it.

“You still haven’t said what you’re here.”

Arya chewed on her lip but Gendry didn’t hesitate to continue speaking.

“The King told me you went north with Jon Snow.”

“I did.”

“But now you’re here.”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve taken a job in my kitchens? What in seven hells, Arya?”

She took several steps forward until they were standing nearly toe to toe. Gendry was looking at her with wary eyes.

“I’ve missed you.” It was a simple fact. It wasn’t just Ned that had brought her all this way. She had missed her friend. She had made others beyond the wall just like she did across the narrow sea but none she loved half as well as him.

Gendry’s hand reached out and brushed her fingers. Arya wasn’t sure if Gendry was even conscience of his doing it but she took his hand in hers. They intertwined their fingers.

“I missed you too.”

“I thought you might not want to see me,” Arya admitted.

“I’ve spent the past year trying to carry on but now you’re here and…” his words trailed off as his hand slowly ran up her arm. “Every day I’ve thought about what I would give to see you, Arya,” he confessed. Arya brought herself closer still to him until their chests her nearly brushing. Gendry leaned down and Arya reached up and just like that they were kissing.

It started off uncertain. The kisses were short not unlike their first. They met and broke apart easily. But it quickly turned as they did each time before into some with a clear direction. Their lips stayed pressed together for longer. Arya was grasping at his shoulders as Gendry backed them up towards his very large bed. His hands were full of the threadbare skirt she had borrowed from one of the other kitchen girls.

Reluctantly, Arya broke away from him. They were both breathing hard.

“Wait,” she said softly.

“What’s wrong?” Gendry was all concern again. As if she might disappear like she had the last time they kissed. Arya took a deep breath to steady herself.

“There’s something you should know.”

*

She returned to his bedchamber with Ned.

Gendry stared as if she held some sort of mythical creature and not a human child. Maybe he thought it a grumpkin for all she knew. His eyes were wide as they flickered wildly between hers and the sleeping bundle she held.

“What’s that?” he managed to ask.

“A baby,” she said.

“A baby,” he repeated. It appeared to take a great effort but he took several steps closer to peer down at the child. Gendry raised a hand as if to reach and touch him but then dropped it. Arya wondered what he saw. The black hair and blue eyes just like his own?

“Who’s child is it?” Gendry asked, his voice sounded half strangled. Arya bristled. He could be so stupid sometimes. Did he think she meant to present him with some other man’s baby?

“He’s _ours_.”

“You…you had a baby?”

“Yes. Beyond the wall.” Gendry blinked several times. “I didn’t know when I left.”

“Do you want to hold him?” Arya asked. Gendry nodded but he seemed unsure of how to take him from Arya’s arms. She led him to the bed and sat him down before gently transferring Ned. Gendry gasped quietly as he tucked the baby against his chest. Ned seemed very comfortable there.

Arya kicked off her boots and crawled up beside them on the featherbed.

“What do you think?”

“He’s so small.” Arya thought of how much he had grown over the past four months. “He looks like me.”

“Yes.”

Gendry stared down at him with a look of wonderment Arya knew mirrored her own when she had first held him.

“We have a baby,” Gendry said. His voice was surprisingly light. He was grinning wider than she had ever seen him. Arya felt foolish to ever had feared he would not want to see them.

“Yes.”

The three of them sat in a peaceful silence for a long time. Gendry kept looking between Arya and their child with an expression that was so deliriously happy she could not help but smile back.

“He’s a bastard,” Gendry said, suddenly. Arya’s heart clenched at the way his face had fallen.

“Yes,” she acknowledged. “But I know my brother will legitimize him if we asked. I know it.”

Gendry nodded. He was clearly deep in thought. She ran her fingers through his hair and down his neck. He sighed but it didn’t sound contented. His shoulders were tensed and he was staring at Ned again with a furrowed brown and clenched jaw. He seemed more on edge then when Arya had sprung herself on him.

“I know you don’t want to be a lady.” He took an unsteady breath. His blue eyes were earnest as they looked into hers. “Hell, I don’t even want to be a lord. But I can’t bear the thought of you two leaving. If you want I will follow you back north or any-“

Arya took Gendry’s jaw in her hands and cut him off with a firm kiss.

“Gendry?”

“Yes?”

“What I want is to stay here with you.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Yes.” Arya kissed him again more softly. “I want us to be a family.” Arya remembered tearfully telling him the same many years ago. It felt strange to think of that now that they had made a child together. She never could have guessed then that they would find themselves here.

“That’s what I want too.” Gendry’s eyes were shining and Arya knew she was home.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! There can never be too many fix it fics after those last few episodes, right? 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always greatly appreciated.


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